'It is your own pain you think of, not his.

He may suffer, so long as you are not worried.' 'You are an impertinent chit,' retorted Lesbia, 'and you know nothing about it.' After this there was no more said about Mr.Hammond; but Mary did not forget him.

She wrote long letters to her brother, who was still in Scotland, shooting, deer-stalking, fishing, killing something or other daily, in the most approved fashion of an Englishman taking his pleasure.

Maulevrier occasionally repaid her with a telegram; but he was not a good correspondent.

He declared that life was too short for letter-writing.
Summer was gone; the lake was no longer a shining emerald floor, dotted with the reflection of the flock upon the verdant slopes above it, but dull and grey of hue, and broken by white-edged wavelets.